


slow dance

by cedricsboyfriend



Series: hedric shorts [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst?, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23603125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedricsboyfriend/pseuds/cedricsboyfriend
Summary: another old short from tumblr based on the prompt of a non-polyjuiced Harry and Cedric dancing at Fleur and Bills wedding.
Relationships: Cedric Diggory/Harry Potter
Series: hedric shorts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688842
Comments: 4
Kudos: 129





	slow dance

There was distant laughter, notes streaming from the bell of a record player, people yelling out for Bill and Fleur to kiss again and lots of chatter; so _much_ chatter. Talking and eating and dancing and singing all under that one hot tent, tables and chairs clumped together, spines bumped into and elbowed sides, the meld of perfume, food and sweat taken all in one breath. Harry thought that he _ought_ to feel happy, that he ought to feel glad that anyone could have a moment like this in such dark times. But when he slipped away, his shoes trekking through dewed grass, his fingers loosening his tie; he just felt better than he did in the tent, he felt new.

The Burrow’s fields were wide and the night sky just as vast, littered with stars and dressed with a cold but welcome summer air. Here, underneath the willow tree and beside the river, there was no chatter, no dancing or any socializing to worry about. It was just the moonlight dripping through leaves. The sound of the crickets, of running water and the brush of branches swaying in the wind; noises and echoes that eased Harry’s deep-set anxiety.

In the tent, Ron and Hermione were probably engaged in a rather awkward conversation with Viktor Krum. Fred would be stuffing his face while George dealt with the old witches that hung onto his arm – and Cedric?

Cedric would be dealing with Fleur’s Veela cousins, who at once became doe-eyed as soon as they saw him standing in the corner. It was irking to see how enamored Fleur’s cousins became, but Harry couldn’t particularly blame them.

Cedric _did_ look handsome tonight, more so than usual.

A white shirt tucked into a navy suit that hugged his waist. Shoulders broad and body sleek; hair swept and face grazed with the light makeup that Fleur had insisted on putting, the contour accentuating his jawline, the slope of his cheeks and the intensity of those grey eyes. Ron had to snap his fingers or tug Harry over to the buffet, just to keep him from staring – his gaze wandering over to that corner of room again and again.

But here, nobody needed to worry. Harry could just stand in silence by the river and not care about how sour he felt or looked on the outside. 

Suddenly, a rustle. Hands brushing through the willow leaves.

“Hello Harry.” a familiar voice said and when Harry turned around, his breath hitched as lo behold it was Cedric, looking a little disheveled; his suit jacket and tie gone, leaving only his shirt and suspenders behind. Cedric’s first two buttons were undone, showing _just_ a bit of his chest and his hair – though messier than before – was still _annoyingly_ perfect, as if he had styled it to be that way.

Harry motioned to Cedric’s unfinished suit.

“So Fleur’s cousins got you?” he said. Cedric became red.

“I had to dance with them once before I could get away. I-I’ve… no clue when they peeled my jacket off.”

“They got your tie as well.”

“What?” Cedric slapped a hand across his chest. “Jesus, they _did_! How?!”

And as Harry laughed, Cedric whipped back to stare back at the tent, just a field away; it’s lights glowing warm and it’s music still playing, bright but soft in the background.

“I thought no one noticed when I left.” Harry suddenly said, his laughter had faded as he stood at the edge of the river, the water barely lapping at his feet.

“Well, I did.” Cedric replied, walking toward him.

“What? You prefer me over those beautiful, tie and jacket-stealing women?”

“Always.” Cedric said, without hesitation.

Harry paused.

“Flatterer.” he said and though he rolled his eyes, Cedric knew he was secretly pleased, his ears raised higher when he looked away; the tips red and his fingers clasped.

“You okay?” Cedric asked, now standing beside Harry. He nudged and Harry began to lean on his side.

“Yes.” he answered. And Harry was, truly.

He just needed to get away for a moment.

Though not far away, he _did_ like the music. He liked the sound of laughter, and he would’ve loved to watch George deal with all the withering aunties and grandmas. He would’ve loved to see Hermione blush when she talked to Krum, would’ve loved to distract Ron with a challenge to see who could drink the most spiked goblets in four minutes. And he truly would’ve loved to see Ginny and Luna dance with each other, their yellow and red dresses spinning like a flurry of fire, but most of all Harry would’ve also loved to… _Oh._

Harry looked at Cedric, who smiled at him kindly, eyebrows raised in question.

Harry would’ve also loved to dance with Cedric. Just like Bill and Fleur did, eyes locked on each other, moving and looking and staying close like no one else was there.

But of course they couldn’t.

Even with family and close friends, there were too many ways for such a sight to get out, the Chosen One with his boyfriend? There were too many ways where a Death Eater could catch wind and then Voldemort too.

They couldn’t risk it. _Wouldn’t_ risk it.

From the bottom of his heart, Harry was glad that Fleur and Bill could loudly proclaim their love. And that everyone else could celebrate it with them. But for Harry, it was entirely foreboding, almost suffocating. The noise, the smell, the heat.

 _And Cedric’s absence._ Harry sighed and gave a half-hearted smile back to Cedric. He just had to get away…

“I’m tired.” he said suddenly, and Cedric could see it in his eyes. The tightness that clenched his face.

“Ah.”

He chose not to say anything at first. It felt like Harry didn’t want him to pry, that it would just ruin this rare, quiet moment they were having. So instead, Cedric slipped his hand into Harry’s and squeezed tightly.

“Well, look Harry. At least this moon is beautiful right?” he asked, and he outstretched his other arm, reaching over and pointing as if he was trying to touch the night sky.

But when Harry turned to look, he didn’t see how the moon floated in it’s full figure, he didn’t see how it looked like a little bauble in the pinhole darkness – no, his eyes were caught by Cedric’s face. His full complexion and and the long lashes that were illuminated by shards of moonlight. He was looking at the jut of Cedric’s jaw and how the slant of his brow was willow shaded. And as he couldn’t tear his eyes away, he caught Cedric smile, this incredulous and awe-filled smile as he stared at the moon, and for some reason Harry felt his heart fill to the brim. He became aware of how warm Cedric’s hand felt – soft yet tight, not wanting to let Harry go, and he became aware of how his own heart clenched. _Painful_ but so unbearably real, reeling but from the dazzle, the brilliance of it all — the reality of this simple sight. Of Cedric just _here_ with him, smiling at the moon.

“It is rather beautiful, isn’t it?” Harry whispered, fearing that his voice might break, as he stared and stared, his gaze steady not on the moon but Cedric; tall, handsome Cedric, hair blown and shirt billowing in the wind, eyes creased as he smiled – a boy who thought that he’d distract Harry with the beauty of the moon – a boy who became even more like poetry, when he thought that no one else was looking.

So Harry let go and when Cedric turned, he found him stooped in a deep bow, his hand offered out.

“..What are you doing?” Cedric asked, amused.

“Would you like to dance?”

Cedric felt taken aback. _“Dance?_ Right now?”

“I’ve been wanting to get one all night, Diggory.” Harry admitted, and he looked up at Cedric with a smirk. “You look rather dashing, you know.”

Cedric eyes widened. And then his mouth broke into another one of those incredulous, _brilliant_ smiles. He took Harry’s hand and pulled him close, his arm curling around his waist.

“Please, the same could always be said of you.” he said and with that, they began to step into a rather clumsy waltz, a little off the rhythm of the music that travelled from the tent. Harry laughed when Cedric stumbled on the uneven ground, and Cedric laughed every time Harry stepped on his toes. Eventually they gave up on using any ‘proper’ steps, and instead just rocked back and forth, side to side; slow dancing to one song and then two, and then three and then so on, getting closer and closer; whispering and throwing their heads back in laughter, arms around each other, Harry’s forehead against Cedric’s chest and Cedric against Harry’s temple. And then at the fifth song, Harry felt Cedric press a kiss to his forehead, to the scar that he had stopped hiding under his hair a long time ago.

“I love you.” Cedric sighed. And looking back on it now, it was like he _knew._ Like he knew that Harry would disappear after the sixth song, or that the Ministry would fall that night. As if he knew that he wouldn’t be able to go with him, try and fight all he wanted, because everything would be too quick, too chaotic and loud. Harry would never let it happen.

And now, Harry only wished that he said it back. Said something, _anything_ , that could’ve let Cedric know how much he meant; how much he weighed in Harry’s heart, how much it felt like there was a knife stuck in Harry’s ribcage when they were far apart. But all he did in that moment, was stop dancing. Run his hands through the back of Cedric’s head, tilt his handsome face down and kiss him.

Soft. Gentle. It wasn’t passionate but full of passion. A promise of some sort. Just between them. Cedric grew dizzy on the kiss. Harry still smelt like chamomile. But then—a _flash_.

The music cut abruptly. Silence at the tent.

Screaming. People scrambling to get out, the cracks of guests apparating. _Death Eaters._  
Now cracks of spells.

Cedric screaming out for Harry’s name. But no answer.

Not for long a time.

**Author's Note:**

> this one is quite old, forgive my sappy ass.


End file.
